


tropical drink melting in your hand; we'll be falling in love

by jojotxt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Beach, Beach Resort AU, Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, This is total cheese...., im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 14:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7536922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojotxt/pseuds/jojotxt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith just wanted a summer job to help pay for college. He didn't expect to be coworkers with a complete asshole who hated his guts. </p><p>He didn't expect to fall for him, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tropical drink melting in your hand; we'll be falling in love

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY... let me just start out by saying that I am.... overwhelmed at all the wonderful comments I have gotten on my silly little rival bakery AU. Honestly, you all are the best and I wanted to respond to all of your comments with a bunch of heart emojis, expressing my undying love. BUT... i thought it would just be easier to do it here. SO!! I LOVE YOU.... 
> 
> this fic was inspired by the beach boys, because i'm a sucker for 'kokomo' and 'wouldn't it be nice'. if you haven't heard those songs, GO LISTEN TO THEM!!! THEYRE WONDERFUL. 
> 
> anyway!! thank you one again and i hope you enjoy this stupid beach resort au: keith edition
> 
> EDIT:
> 
> LOOK AT THIS [BEAUTIFUL ART](http://emuyh-art.tumblr.com/post/147916455367/because-it-wasnt-just-anyone-kissing-him-in-the)!!! AND THIS [ BEAUTIFUL ART](http://librebananr.tumblr.com/post/147942846376/hey-guys-thank-you-all-so-much-for-35k) AS WELL !!!
> 
> IM CRYING!!!! APPRECIATE THEM!!

“And that’s pretty much about it!” Pidge smiled and clasped their hands together. “It’s a pretty simple job, really. You get the whole,” they gestured around with their hand, “gist: people give you money, in return you rent out what they want. Just make sure they bring it back.” They headed over to the cash register and waved Keith over. “Once you’ve got everything in—make _sure_ to do inventory—count the cash and make sure we made bank.” Pidge leaned up and grasped the handle of the shutters to the shack and closed them. “Then you do that.” They grinned up at Keith. “See? Simple as that. Oh—and don’t forget to lock up when you’re ready to leave.” They grinned and pushed up their glasses with their middle finger.

 

“Then I can leave?” Keith questioned, fiddling with his hands.

 

“Yeah, if you want. Usually I take a pit stop by the bar to drown my sorrows in a triple fudge milkshake before I go, though. Really settles the nerves and anxiety.”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Really? You don’t look like you’re that anxious.”

 

Pidge grinned fully, the peaks of their gums showing through. “Oh, just assume that I’m always constantly dying inside.” They headed toward the exit and waved at Keith from over their shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you how to lock up.”

 

\--

 

Keith had needed a summer job.

 

He was a third of the way completed with his second year of college when he realized he had a problem. A financial problem.

 

He had gotten a very kindly worded letter that sounded a bit sardonic, if Keith was being honest. The beginning of the letter thanked him for his support of the school and how he is a ‘cherished student among many’ and bullshit like that. It had even made him feel pretty good about himself. But then, the words, ‘ _Unfortunately, you have yet to pay for your previous semester and therefore will not be able to attend school next year unless you pay for it, also fuck you for being poor’_ stood out amongst the false cheerfulness.

 

Maybe they didn’t _directly_ tell Keith to go fuck himself, but it was pretty much the same thing. He’d called his parents, and they happily told him that they will pay for his semester of school, but—“Unfortunately, dear, money is getting a bit tight, and, oh you know how it is…” _Yeah I do,_ Keith had thought, _that’s why I called._

 

So, long story short, Keith was told he’d have to provide for himself while his foster parents neglected him and his needs (what’s new). To save money, he needed to get a summer job that wouldn’t be _terribly_ awful and would get him easy money.

 

Hence, why he was working at a beach resort.

 

It was a pretty decent job, really. It was near his apartment, so he could easily walk there. Plus, the site was beautiful. The resort stretched over miles and miles of land, and the beach was really only a small portion of that land. But it was a most popular part. Rentable houses lined the far back reaches of the beach, each sporting their own back porch facing the water, with a table and chairs and a hot tub to the side (needless to say the rent on the houses cost more than Keith’s own net worth).

 

Closer in on the beach was the lifeguard tower, which was basically a fancy high chair with a small office below it, where Keith guessed the lifeguard could rest or something like that. Toward the left of the tower was the bar and grille, a big building that somewhat resembled a hut, with a grassy roof. Numerous circular tables with umbrellas and chairs, that were nearly almost always filled, circled around the building. And finally, at the far end of the beach, was the rental shack, where people could rent skis, surfboards, floaties, or whatever suited them best.

 

It was a really nice resort, all in all.

 

“It’s a fairly popular job amongst college kids,” Pidge had said while mentoring Keith. “Almost all of us are in college. Except Coran, Allura, and Shiro. They’re old.”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “How old is old?” He didn’t do very well with elderly people—for some reason, they always had beef with his hair and his “punk attitude” (whatever that meant).

 

Pidge hummed. “Shiro and Allura are about twenty-six or twenty-seven, and Coran I think is in his thirties.”

 

“That’s not… really that old…” Keith muttered.

 

Pidge snorted. “Are you _kidding_ me? That’s old as hell. They’re _ancient_. They should be like… mummified, or something.”

 

Keith gaped at them.

 

“ _Ancient_ ,” Pidge whispered, as they opened up the cash register.

 

\--

 

On Keith’s third day working there, Pidge mentioned to him something about a party.

 

“I’m not really the partying type,” Keith said while handing a couple a pair of snorkels. “I’m not good at… mingling.”

 

Pidge barked out a laugh and straightened a board that threatened to tip over. “It’s not really a party more than it’s a celebration.”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow and looked over at Pidge. “Celebration?”

 

“Yeah, for you! For landing this job.” They hopped up onto the wooden counter.

 

“That seems kind of unnecessary.”

 

“It’s not unnecessary! It’s an act of kindness!”

 

“Yeah, well, there’s no point to it.”

 

Pidge whistled. “Wow, you’re kind of blunt, aren’t you?”

 

Keith shook his head. “I’m not blunt, I’m honest.”

 

“Well, whatever, Mr. Honest. We do this for all of the new recruits, so you’ll just have to deal with it.” They picked at a chipping part of the counter. “Besides, it’s not much, really. It’s more of a chance for you to get to know the rest of the staff. We have drinks and Hunk—he’s the chef of the grille—makes these _amazing_ hamburgers that are honestly to _die_ for. Anyway,” they shrugged. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but I think it’ll be a good opportunity for you to. Y’know. Mingle. Even if you aren’t good at it.”

 

Keith hummed and looked out at the ocean. There were at least a hundred people in the water, some surfing, some swimming, and some just wading and floating along with the waves. The sun was high in the sky, meaning that it had to be around noon, which would explain the drop in amount of people renting stuff. It was lunchtime, which Pidge had offhandedly mentioned was the slowest time. He shrugged. “I’ll go. It sounds fun, at least.”

 

Pidge clapped their hands together and gave a blinding smile. “Great! It’ll be fun, trust me!”

 

Keith gave a small, kind smile and startled when a man came up to the shack and asked for some sunscreen.

 

By the end of the day, Keith could feel himself drifting off to sleep to the sounds of the ocean. He was slumped over the counter and was waiting patiently while Pidge took inventory. He closed his eyes and hummed at the sounds of Pidge’s muttering. He thought about what he needed to get from the grocery store after the party.

 

_Milk, coffee, bread, dish soap, oatmeal…_

 

He was jolted from his semi trance when Pidge tapped on his shoulder. He glanced up blearily at them, and they grinned. “Ready to go?”

 

Keith groaned. “Yeah, just lemme… get my bag.” Pidge waited by the door and grinned at Keith as he passed by, his bag hanging from his shoulder.

 

“Man, just wait until you taste Hunk’s food, it’s literally… freaking… ambrosia or something like that.” Pidge sighed wistfully. “He makes the best sweet potato fries you will ever have in your entire life. Seriously.” They continued rambling about food until they had made the trek across the beach to the hut.

 

There were four other people there by the time they had arrived. There was a built man with two toned hair behind the bar making what looked like a—really fucking big—piña colada. A woman wearing a skintight wetsuit was sitting at one of the barstools, chattering away at the man, who occasionally hummed and gave a polite smile. A man—who Keith remembered as Coran from his job interview—was standing next to another guy who was flipping burgers on an ancient looking grill. Coran was sporting a very bright and very ugly tropical shirt with flamingos on it, cargo shorts, knee length socks, and—God— _Crocs_. The man at the grill—who Keith assumed was Hunk—was laughing at whatever Coran was saying.

 

“Hey, guys,” Pidge greeted, raising a hand in greeting. “I brought raw meat.”

 

The woman on the stool smiled gently at Keith. “You must be Keith! It’s nice to meet you. I’m Allura. I do the swimming and sometimes surfing lessons. The surfing is more of Lance’s thing, but he’s not available all the time, so I fill in when he can’t…” she continued rambling, her face flushed and excited, and honestly, Keith couldn’t look away from her. Keith may have been gayer than a three-dollar bill, but he could appreciate a beautiful woman when given the chance. Allura was _gorgeous_ , in all respects of the word. She had dark skin that contrasted against her light, silvery hair, which was pulled up into a messy bun.  

 

The man behind the counter smiled once Allura finished her rambling. “I guess that’s my cue. I’m Shiro. I—”

 

“He gets people drunk,” Hunk pipes up.

 

“—I _man the bar_ ,” Shiro glared over at Hunk. “I don’t _make_ people get drunk. If they do, that’s on them.” He let his gaze flit back over to Keith. “Anyway, it’s good to meet you.”

 

Keith flushed at Shiro’s smile (damn was he gay). “Nice to meet you as well,” he mumbled, scratching at his cheek and looking down at the sand.

 

Pidge piped up from beside him. “I’m sure you’ve met Coran already. He’s in charge of the beach area as a whole. And he’s also in charge of scaring off pesky seagulls that want our food, with his hideous fashion taste.” They ignored Coran’s indignant squawk. “And that’s Hunk. His food is a blessing from the gods.”

 

Hunk grinned and flipped a burger onto a bun. “Yeah, sometimes I think these guys are only friends with me because of my food.”

 

“Oh, that’s definitely it,” Pidge hummed at the same time Shiro and Allura both nodded.

 

“You guys suck so much,” Hunk grunted.

 

Everyone laughed and chattered away. “So, Keith,” Allura grinned, eyes trained on Keith’s. “Where are you from? Oh—stop standing there, so frigid! Come, sit! Let’s learn more about you!” She waved him over invitingly, but Keith felt like Allura was more of _demanding him_ rather than inviting him. So he shrugged and walked over and sat himself down next to Allura.

 

“Sorry about her,” Shiro said, adding a little umbrella to the giant piña colada. “She can be a bit overbearing.”

 

“Not true!” Allura pouted. She then turned back to Keith and gazed at him, wide eyed. “So. Back to you. Where are you from, again?”

 

Keith glanced over at the untouched drink Shiro had just made. “Uh… like, ninety miles south from here. I go to college in this town, but my parents are further south.” He turned toward Shiro. “Is that like… a drink for everyone to share?” Because if Keith was honest, he needed a drink after being exposed to so much human contact all at once. Plus, there’s no way a functioning human being could drink all of that by themselves.  

 

Shiro smiled gently. “No. It’s for me.” He lifted the drink up and took a large gulp. He gingerly set the glass down and looked Keith dead in the eyes and said, “It’s to drown out my sorrows.”

 

Keith gulped, but maintained eye contact with Shiro as he took another drink. “That’s… okay?”

 

Shiro laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Just messing with you. Nah, me and Allura like to share.”

 

“O-ok?”

 

“Keith!” Keith was startled as Pidge called out his name. “Come try Hunk’s burger. They are literally _so_ good!”

 

“Coming,” Keith mumbled, sliding off the stool. “Nice to meet you.” He raised a hand as a temporary goodbye to Shiro and Allura and made his way over to Pidge.

 

By the time Keith had trudged his way back to his apartment, it was nearing midnight. The party, despite his original worries, had been pretty fun. The company was good and Pidge was right—Hunk’s burgers were ones to be praised. Keith had actually enjoyed himself, which made climbing up the three flights of stairs to his apartment very difficult. He was _exhausted_. Every step felt like he was treading through molten lead.

 

But still, he didn’t regret staying for the party. His coworkers all seemed nice enough and welcomed him into the strange little group with open arms.

 

 _Maybe this summer won’t be so bad_ , is what Keith thought before flopping down onto his bed and falling asleep.

 

\--

 

About a week into Keith working at the rental shack, he met Lance.

 

It was a hot day, ridiculously hot—even for the lower east coast. It had rained the previous day, which not only made it hot, but also extremely muggy. Muggy to where Keith literally felt like he was walking through water when he went to take his lunch break. It was great for those who could cool off in the ocean (Allura), but literally sucked for everyone else. It especially sucked because the rental shack had no air conditioning. All in all, it was miserable.

 

Pidge had thankfully set up a fan in the back of the shop to cool down the steaminess of the room. It was an old fan that creaked whenever it turned, but, it was a fan. And it got the job done.

 

That day, Keith had taken to wearing a tank top instead of a t-shirt and had spent most of the day slouched over the counter with his head tilted toward the cool air that would occasionally stream his way. Of course, due to the intense heat, there were literally hundreds of people at the beach. The only relief Keith had gotten was his ten-minute lunch break, and even then he still felt like he was going to die due to the heat. People seemed to flock toward the shack at the most inopportune times, too. Like when Pidge had left for a pee break and Keith was all alone. There were many screaming children and upset mothers that blamed _him_ for their problems.

 

So, pretty much, the day was bad.

 

When it was time to close, Keith was nearly crying with happiness.

 

“Sorry your first week had to end like this,” Pidge said wearily. They gave a weak smile. “Usually it isn’t this bad, but you can never know." They pushed up their glasses and messed with their hair, which was getting really frizzy from the moisture in the air. “I’m gonna go wash up. Do you think you can handle inventory without me?”

 

Keith nodded. “Yeah, no problem. Go fix yourself. You look like a hot mess.”

 

Pidge groaned. “I _feel_ like a hot mess.” They shook their head. “Anyway, thanks. I’ll be back in a bit.” They slowly opened the door and headed toward the public bathrooms.

 

Keith sighed and began gathering things that he had just dumped on the floor (due to frustrations and how crowded it had been when people were bringing their stuff back). He hung up the goggles back in their place and set the boogie boards back where they belonged. He straightened up the surfboards and threw dirty towels into the hamper to be washed later.

 

While he was checking off the number of buckets that had been returned, someone coughed from the window. Keith turned to look up at whoever was trying to grab his attention and—Keith’s breath hitched. _Oh…_

 

Keith wasn’t usually one for dramatics, but the guy in front of him was literally _glowing_. He had dark, tan skin and hazel eyes that seemed to shine in the light of the setting sun. His hair was dark brown and short cropped and seemed to end in a semi buzz cut. It looked… really soft.  His lips were a bit chapped, but were still full and round and looked _very_ kissable. He was fit, but not too fit and Keith tried very hard not to stare at his chest.

 

“Uh… hey, dude, is everything okay?”

 

Keith jumped as the boy in front of him addressed him. “Oh—uh…” He could feel his face warm up. “N—no. Sorry! I…” He bit his lip and tried very hard to not look at the guy in front of him. _I’m so gay I’m so gay I’m so gay I’m so gay I’m so gay…_ Keith’s heart was thudding rapidly and he coughed. “Sorry… Is there something I can help you with… sir?” He asked weakly.

 

The guy smiled gently but gave a confused look. “Uh, yeah. Surfboard?”

 

Keith frowned and looked at the guy questioningly. “It’s after hours.” _Why is he trying to rent a board after the shack has closed?_

The guy let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I know? That’s why I’m asking for one?” He looked confused.

 

“I… what?” _Is this guy for real?_ “What are you going to do with it?”

 

The guy raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. “I’m… going to… surf… with… it…?”

 

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t rent you a surfboard. Besides, we’ve already closed down the register.”

 

The guy rolled his eyes. “Well, no duh. I’m renting it for free.”

 

Keith’s mouth opened. _Is this some kind of terrible robbery? What the hell is going on?_

“C’mon, just give me the board, dude.”

 

When the guy leaned in, Keith backed up quickly, nearly tripping over himself. “N-no! What the hell?!”

 

“Whoa—are you okay, man? You almost fell there.”

 

Keith glared at the other. “What are you doing?!”

 

The guy blinked. “I’m trying—keyword: trying—to get a surfboard.”

 

“Well! Go somewhere else!”

 

The guy scowled and gave a nasty look. “Dude, what the fuck is your problem?!”

 

“I’m sorry! I can’t give out anything to the public right now!”

 

A groan. “But I’m _not_ the public!”

 

“I—What?” Keith gaped at the man in front of him. _What does he mean he’s not the public? Does he…_

“I _work_ here, moron!”

 

Oh. _Ohhhhhh._ “Oh,” Keith murmured. He shook his head and gave an apologizing bow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t realize you worked here um…” He looked up and gave a shy smile. “Who are you, again?”

 

It was almost comical the way the guy’s eye’s widened and his mouth dropped open. “Are you—SERIOUSLY DUDE?” he yelled.

 

Keith tilted his head, confused. “Yes? I’m being perfectly serious.”

 

“I’m Lance! The guy from the welcome party! We met! I shook your hand and everything! I’m the freaking _lifeguard_ , for Christ’s sake!” Lance gave him a weary and annoyed look. “Do you _seriously_ not remember?”

 

Keith shook his head. He didn’t remember much from that night, other than meeting the other workers and sharing stories and drinking like ten gallons of mango juice with just maybe a little bit (a lot) of alcohol in it. Then there was someone who got there late and… oh.

 

Keith physically felt his soul escape from his body. “I’m… so sorry.”

 

Lance scoffed. “You know what, whatever! Forget it. I guess I’m not good enough for _you_.” Before Keith could react, Lance stormed away, muttering curses in some other language under his breath.

 

When Pidge walked back into the shack, they were surprised to find Keith hiding under the counter, curled up into a ball, muttering “idiot” over and over.

 

\--

 

Keith tried to talk to Lance. He really did feel bad about the whole misunderstanding, and he didn’t really want Lance to be upset with him. He wanted to get to know Lance. He wanted to make amends.

 

But every time he tried to even go _near_ the lifeguard tower, Lance would just blow his whistle and yell into his megaphone, “No jackasses allowed zone!” to which Shiro would respond with a worried and flustered, “Language! There are _children_ here!”

 

“Look, Lance, can’t we just _talk_?” Keith yelled, exasperated at his fifth try that day to talk to Lance. His neck was getting a crick from looking up so high. He really should have brought some sunglasses. It was a really bright day, and Lance was in the perfect position to where looking at him was basically looking directly at the sun. Keith’s eyes were practically closed at how much he was squinting.

 

“Oh suuuuure we can talk,” Lance cooed. “I would _love_ to talk to the guy who forgot I existed! That sounds just peachy.”

 

“Great!” Keith said. “Then come down here and we can talk.”

 

“That was _sarcasm_ , dickmuncher!” Lance yelled. He leaned into this megaphone and spat, “Learn it!” Then he blew his whistle. “Now leave my bubble! You’re _tainting_ it with your douchebaggery!” He continued to blow his whistle in quick bursts until Keith groaned and brought his hands up in surrender.

 

“Fine! Fine. I’ll leave. But you _will_ talk to me, Lance! I promise you! One day! You will—” He was interrupted by a sharp, loud whistle and a crude finger gesture from Lance.

 

Needless to say, his attempts at communication had been fruitless.

 

“I just don’t _get_ it,” Keith grumbled while going through inventory that day. “It was a simple mistake, why is he taking it so personally?” He aggressively shoved a snorkel back in its place.

 

Pidge laughed, scrubbing down buckets and toy shovels. “Lance takes everything too seriously. It’s in his character.” They set aside a clean bucket and put another one in their lap. “I honestly think he believes the world revolves around him.”

 

“More like the _universe_ ,” Keith spat darkly.

 

Pidge hummed. “Yeah, maybe. Lance probably seriously believes that the world is out to spite him.”

 

Keith scoffed and checked off the number of snorkels he counted. _Twelve. Perfect._ “He’s so… egocentric.”

 

“Yeah, that’s about it. But he also cares a lot about what people think of him.”

 

“Then why the hell is he treating me like this! My image of him right now is a _little_ less than perfect, if you know what I mean!” Keith plopped himself down on the ground next to Pidge and helped them wash down the used buckets.

 

Pidge made an appreciative sound. “He’s probably not thinking straight.” They shrugged. “He’ll come around. He’s actually a pretty cool guy, aside from his cocky attitude and the fact that he flirts with anything on two legs.”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “Really?”

 

Pidge snorted. “ _Oh_ yeah. You should have seen it. His first _day_ of work, he was able to hit on two soccer moms—he actually got one of their numbers.” They smirked. “That same week he tried to hit on Allura and she slapped him so hard, he bruised for a week.”

 

“No shit!” Keith grinned.

 

“It’s true! Allura felt so bad about it, though. Once she realized the amount of pressure she had put into the hit, she started tearing up and wouldn’t let go of Lance, as if he were a fragile child in need of tender loving care. Needless to say, Lance loved it.”

 

Keith made a disgusted face.

 

“He also tried to hit on Shiro.”

 

Keith dropped the bucket he was holding. “Oh my God.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Oh my _God_.”

 

Pidge grinned. “I _know_.”

 

Keith shook his head. “Maybe it’s a blessing that Lance can’t stand me. He sounds like the kind of person I can’t stand, either.”

 

Pidge shrugged. “Meh. He’ll grow on you.”

 

Keith snorted and picked up the bucket he dropped. “Yeah, I highly doubt that.”

 

\--

 

Keith didn’t fully understand how good of a surfer Lance really was until he saw him in action.

 

It was another typical day, about a month into his working at the resort. Pidge was in the process of taking full hampers of dirty towels to the washers while Keith manned the front counter. It was a pretty relaxing day. There weren’t very many people on the beach, and the few that were didn’t seem to want to rent anything.

 

He heard Allura coming his way before he actually saw her.

 

“Keith!” Keith’s head whipped up quickly, and he smiled when he saw Allura’s bright face.

 

“Hey, Allura. What’s up?”

 

Allura hopped up and crossed her arms, leaning over the counter, sighing when she felt the cool air of the fan hit her face. “Just taking my break.”

 

Keith frowned. “Don’t you have a surfing lesson today, though?”

 

“Oh, Lance said he would take it over for me. He’s such a sweetheart,” Allura cooed. “He may be kind of a jerk, but he has his moments.”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “Lance is going to teach people how to surf?”

 

Allura grinned brightly. “Oh yes! He’s quite the good surfer. Even better than me, and that’s saying something!” She swung her legs back and forth, making somewhat of a sand-cloud. “And he’s _so_ good with children! It’s kind of adorable, really,” she sighed.

 

Keith smirked. “I really can’t imagine Lance teaching small children how to surf.”

 

“Well, he’s better at teaching older people! You should _see_ him with the older ladies; he’s such a charmer!” Allura giggled. “I swear; he makes grandmothers fall in love with him just by _smiling!”_

“That’s really—” _Adorable. Cute. Charming._ “Interesting…” Keith murmured.

 

“Oh! It looks like he’s just about to give a demonstration!” Allura grinned excitedly. She shielded her eyes from the sun and pointed toward the beach.

 

Keith followed her finger and— _Jesus fucking Christ is he wearing a wetsuit?_ Keith’s mouth went dry as he raked his gaze over Lance’s figure. The suit clung to him as if it were a second skin—the ridges of his abs could be seen ever so nicely. His arms muscles were defined perfectly and the suit made his legs look absolutely _sinful_. The suit really highlighted his assets—and _damn does he have a really nice butt._ Keith covered his blushing face with his hands and let out a silent scream. Needless to say, the suit left nothing to the imagination.

 

“Keith? Are you alright?” Allura wondered from beside him.

 

 _No, Allura, I’m not alright. The guy who absolutely despises me is the most beautiful creature in the entire world and I’m really gay and kind of want to touch his butt. But I can’t because, oh yeah, he_ hates _me._

 

“I’m fine,” he muttered pathetically.

 

“You should keep a look out! Lance is about to surf!”

 

Keith uncovered his face and gave a peek at Lance, who was seated on his surfboard, swimming closer to the larger waves coming in. When the waves got closer, Lance deftly got to his feet and let the waves take him in. He shifted his feet a bit to accommodate the movement of the board. Keith watched in awe as Lance moved with the waves. It was like an intricate dance, like a tug-of-war with the ocean that Lance was playing. It was amazing. It was stunning. It was—

 

“Wow,” Keith breathed.

 

Allura hummed. “I know. He makes it look like an art, doesn’t he?”

 

Keith didn’t know much about surfing—the most knowledge he had on the subject was from watching _Lilo and Stitch_ many times as a child. But he could tell—just by the way Lance moved and the way he seemed to _know_ how to use the water to his advantage—that Lance was an _amazing_ surfer.

 

Keith bit his lip as he watched Lance let himself get swept up in the ocean so he could ride his board back to shore. From where he was situated, he couldn’t see much of Lance’s face, but he could imagine the bright smile he was giving the other people. The sun raked against Lance’s tanned skin, making him glow.

 

“That was…” Keith murmured to himself.

 

Allura sighed. “He’s just so much better than I am. I’m good at surfing, sure, but Lance is… so much more talented. His way of surfing is so pretty to watch.” She laughed. “I’m kind of jealous, really. All of those other people get to watch it up close. Meanwhile, I have to watch from back here.” She pouted. “’S not fair.”

 

Keith hummed and looked down at his hands. They were shaking. “Yeah. It’s really not.”

 

\--

 

At the end of that week, Keith cornered Lance while he was getting ready to leave.

 

“Please teach me how to surf,” Keith said, bowing gently. He kept his eyes trained on the ground, at Lance’s feet. _Are his toenails painted pink… with glitter?_ When he was met with no response, Keith looked up, to see Lance’s shell shocked face. “Uh…”

 

Then, Lance grinned viciously. _Oh boy_. He whipped his head around and snapped his fingers. “Stay like that, bowing,” he hissed at Keith. “Hey Hunk!” he hollered. Hunk jumped as he exited the bar and grille. “Come over here buddy! I need a favor from ya!”

 

When Hunk arrived at where Keith and Lance were, Lance shoved his phone into Hunk’s hands. “Take a picture of me and Mr. Big Shot here. I need proof that I’m better than him.”

 

Hunk raised an eyebrow. “What?”

 

Lance rolled his eyes. “Keith asked for my help, so I’m going to hold it over him forever.”

 

“But… why?” _Thank you Hunk_ , Keith thought mournfully.

 

“God! Just—Do it!” Lance barked. He squatted next to where Keith was still bowing and held up two peace signs. “Take the picture, Hunk.”

 

When Keith heard the sound of a shutter coming from the phone, he sighed. “Can I come up, please?”

 

“Yeah, whatever,” Lance mumbled.

 

Keith straightened himself out and grimaced when he saw Lance grinning at his phone. _This better be worth it._ “So will you?” he asked, exasperated.

 

“Huh?” Lance gave him a blank stare. “Will I what?”

 

Keith’s left eye twitched. “Teach me how to surf?”

 

“Oh—psssh, yeah, whatever,” Lance waved him off.

 

Keith felt a bloom of hope rise in his chest. “Really?”

 

“Yeah. Fine. Leave before I change my mind,” Lance grumbled, looking down at the sand. Keith swore he saw him blushing, but it could have been the poor lighting of the sunset.

 

“Thank you!” Keith smiled gently. He began to walk away when Lance called out his name. He turned around, questioningly.

 

“Every Friday at lunch break. That’s when we’ll do it,” Lance said, looking away. “B-but don’t expect me to be nice to you! I’m not going to give you a special treatment or nothin’!” He glared at Keith. “You’re still a jackass, and I hate you!”

 

Keith nodded. “Of course. Goodnight, Lance!”

 

Maybe it was a trick of the wind, but Keith swore he heard Lance mutter a, “Goodnight,” as Keith walked away.

 

\--

 

It was Friday, at lunch break. It was a nice, bright summer day. There were less people in the water due to it being around noon, and Keith was standing around the shack, waiting for Lance to show up.

 

Pidge leaned out the window. “So, you managed to convince Lance to give you surfing lessons, hm?”

 

Keith nodded. “Yeah.”

 

“How hard did you have to beg?” Pidge grinned.

 

“He made me stay in a bowing position until Hunk took a picture of it,” he deadpanned.

 

“Oh, that’s not too bad!”

 

Keith shrugged. “I’m just surprised he agreed to do it.”

 

Pidge hummed. “Yeah, me too.” Keith didn’t like the way they said that. It was as if they knew something he didn’t.

 

Keith wasn’t able to ponder over Pidge’s words much more, because a shrill whistle cut into his thoughts.

 

“Ladies!” Lance barked, marching toward the shack. He was wearing a wetsuit and sunshades. “I’m not paying you to stand around and flirt all day!”

 

Pidge scowled. “ _You’re_ not paying us, at all.” They puffed out their cheeks, blushing. “And we weren’t flirting, you perv!”

 

Lance grinned cockily. “Anything that helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.” He looked over at Keith and lifted his sunglasses off of his face and frowned. “Really?”

 

Keith glared. “What?”

 

“Don’t you have anything to wear except cargo shorts and an ugly dolphin shirt? We’re going _surfing_ , not _sightseeing_.”

 

Keith crossed his arms over his chest, defensively. “I’m wearing swim trunks underneath my pants; I was just waiting for you to show up.” He frowned and glared at Lance. “And Lisa Frank isn’t _ugly_ , you asshole.”

 

Lance snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

 

“It’s _haute couture_.”

 

“More like _butt couture_ ,” Lance shot back, giving Pidge a well-earned high five. “All you need to complete that tourist look is a floppy hat, some sunglasses, and a fanny pack.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “How old are you, again?”

 

“Old enough, dicksquatch! Now let’s move! We only have an hour to get you in the water and to learn the basics! Hurry up! Strip!”

 

“What the fuck is a dicksquatch,” Keith muttered, tugging off his shirt. He let it fall to the ground and tugged down his shorts. He leaned down and picked up his clothes, handing them to Pidge to put near his things. He ruffled his hair and looked over at Lance, who was pointedly _not_ looking at Keith. _What the fuck is his deal?_ Keith wondered. _Does he hate me so much that he can’t stand to look at me? What a dick._ He sighed and snapped his fingers near Lance’s face. “Hey. Lance. I’m ready.”

 

“Oh. Great,” Lance croaked out. He still wasn’t looking at Keith.

 

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed. _Is something wrong with him?_ “Hey, Lance, are you okay? You look really red? Have you put on enough sunscreen?” He leaned in closer.

 

Lance jumped back. “No! I mean, yeah! I’m fine! Just!” he straightened his posture and cleared his throat. “Let’s go before the surf gets too crowded.” He reached for two surfboards that were leaning against the shack. “I think this one will work for you,” Lance said, handing Keith a slightly long—but not a long as Lance’s—surfboard. “You’re a bit shorter than me, and you look less heavy. This should work, but if it doesn’t, we can always switch it out.” He started walking toward the water.

 

Keith followed him. “I didn’t know there were different types of surfboards.”

 

Lance snorted. “Of course there are! You can’t just blindly pick a board and assume everything will be okay once you’re in the water! That’s like suicide!”

 

Keith grimaced. “That might be a bit of an exaggeration.”

 

Lance glared at him. “Who’s the professional here?”

 

“Seriously?” Keith deadpanned.

 

“ _Who’s the professional_?”

 

“You are,” Keith said dryly. “Of course, my mistake.”

 

Lance grinned broadly. “You’re right. Your mistake. Now.” He looked out at the ocean. “Let’s surf.”

 

\--

 

Keith’s first lesson with Lance was actually… pretty okay.

 

Despite being a jerk to Keith, Lance seemed to actually know what he was talking about. He guided Keith step by step on how to mount on his board. He only laughed a little bit when Keith fell into the water (more than once). He still called Keith crude names and was pretty bitchy to him, but he didn’t half-ass his teaching. Which Keith appreciated.

 

“Looks like our time is up,” Lance hummed, looking at an invisible watch on his wrist. “There’s not much we can do in an hour, but you seem like a fast learner, so I’m sure you’ll be riding at least small waves in no time.” He looked over at Keith. “Let’s go put our boards back.”

 

They trudged back to the shack together, Lance quietly humming the whole way there.

 

“Here are your boards, my good sir!” Lance grinned, handing them both boards at once, causing Pidge to nearly fall on the floor.

 

Keith rolled his eyes and jogged around the back to enter the shack, helping Pidge with the extra weight. “I gotcha,” he murmured.

 

“Thanks,” Pidge groaned.

 

“Towel boy!” Lance hollered, waving in Keith’s general direction. “Fetch me your softest and cleanest towel!” He stuck his nose up in a very snotty fashion.

 

Pidge snorted and Keith grabbed two towels from the shelf and threw one at Lance. He used the other one to dry himself off. “Here you go. Wal-Mart’s brand new towel lineup.”

 

“ _Oh_ , so Mullet Brain _does_ have a sense of humor!” Lance cooed. He leaned against the counter and wrapped the towel around his neck. “Tell me, Keith, do you know how long this beach is?” His grin was lethal.

 

“Uh…” Keith raised an eyebrow and gave Pidge and worried look. He was met with a shrug. “No? How long is it?”

 

It was silent for a few moments until Lance whispered, “That’s what she said.”

 

“Leave.” Pidge pointed toward the ocean, ignoring Lance’s cackling. “Leave, and never return.”

 

\--

 

Every Friday, at lunchtime, Keith would go surfing with Lance. It became a routine.

 

Keith would (not eagerly, no matter what Pidge said) wait for his lunch break, and would wait outside the shack for Lance, surfboards ready for use. Lance would show up, make a snarky comment, insult Keith, and proceed to make cleverly crafted ‘yo mamma’ jokes until Pidge yelled at him to fuck off.

 

It was quite soothing, really.

 

Then, he and Lance would head to the water.

 

“How long have you been surfing?” Keith pondered during one of their lessons. They were farther out into the ocean, sitting on their boards. Lance was running his hands through the water, humming, but keeping his eyes on the horizon at the same time, looking for incoming waves.

 

“Since I was six,” he said.

 

Keith’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

 

Lance shrugged. “Yeah, my _madre_ loves the ocean. Actually, my whole family does. We’re an ocean kind of people.” He grinned. “She got me started real young. Had my brother teach me and everything.” He kept his eyes trained on the horizon. “It was real nice, going out to the ocean every day, doing something you love the most with your family. It was nice. Cuz family is the best thing you got. It’s nice to do some family bonding stuff, y’know?”

 

Keith hummed and looked down at the water. “No. I wouldn’t know.”

 

Lance gave him a side-eyed look. “Family issues?”

 

Keith shrugged. “Kind of. Foster homes. My recent parents don’t really want me to be around much. Technically they don’t really have to take care of me, but.” He bit his lip. “Sometimes I wish they cared a little bit. I kind of feel like a burden to them.”

 

Lance continued to look at him. He hummed and trained his gaze at the horizon again. “Looks like there are some waves coming in. Let’s go.”

 

At the end of that training, Lance looked over at Keith and said, “You don’t have to worry about your parents. You have people here… friends. They’ll take care of you.” When Keith met his gaze, he huffed and glared at the sand. “Not me, though. Don’t count on me to care about you or your issues.” He trudged ahead of Keith. “C’mon slowpoke!” he barked.

 

Keith smiled. “Coming.”

 

\--

 

During one of their sessions, Lance stopped abruptly. “Let’s go drink,” he said.

 

Keith gave him a weird look. “What? But we’ve just started.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m tired,” Lance huffed. “And I kinda want to get plastered. It’s been a long day.”

 

“We can’t get plastered. We’re _working_ ,” Keith said, as if it were obvious. Which it kind of was; who drinks on the job? “Plus, we’re only halfway through the day.”

 

Lance pursed his lips. “Fine.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Keith. “But you owe me two beers, shitbreath!”

 

“What? Why!?” Keith glared at Lance.

 

“For delaying my getting drunk!”

 

“Oh, sure, punish me for saving your ass from getting fired. Real mature,” Keith grumbled.

 

“No complaining, _perra_! I am giving you these lessons for free, you know?”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Yes. And I am eternally grateful.”

 

“What’s with that sarcastic tone, bitchtoast?” Lance glared at Keith.

 

“You know, you really need to think of better insults.”

 

“Fuck you! _Besa mi culo, puto!_ _Bastardo!_ ” Lance hissed, grinning.

 

“I can’t speak Spanish, Lance,” Keith deadpanned.

 

“Which is exactly why I’m saying what I’m saying in Spanish.”

 

“Well, what were you saying?”

 

“I was insulting your hair.”

 

Keith frowned and ran his fingers through his hair. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

 

Lance snorted. “Everything.”

 

\--

 

After work that day, Keith met Lance at the bar and grille. He set down his bag on the ground and hopped on the bar stool next to Lance.

 

“Hey,” Keith greeted. He was met with a grunt from Lance and a very unattractive belch. Keith made a face. “You’re disgusting.”

 

Lance grinned wolfishly. “ _Au contraire mon ami_ , I am quite charming and handsome.” He took a gulp from the beer that sat in front of him.

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Yeah, to middle aged women and grannies, maybe.”

 

“Hey, don’t be jealous, babe. Just because I’m more likable than you don’t mean you don’t have your charms.” Lance winked. “I’m sure there are _some_ people who have a Billy Ray Cyrus kink.”

 

Keith frowned. “You’re mean.”

 

“Yeah, and water is wet. Come on, dude. Sit down. Drink. Forget the weight of the world with me.” Lance patted the counter.

 

“I’m already sitting,” Keith murmured.

 

“Hey, Shiro!” Lance hollered. Shiro poked his head through the back door. “Make my friend Keith here something fruity, to match his personality.”

 

Keith ignored the jab at him and grinned. “ _Friend?_ ” he cooed. “Oh, Lance, I didn’t know you felt that way. You should have said something sooner!”

 

Lance grimaced, his face twisting into something bitter. “Okay, I’m a little tipsy. You can’t assume I know what I’m saying.”

 

“Nuh uh… I’m not having it. So, what should we talk about, _friend_?” He hummed and gave a cheeky grin.

 

Lance flipped him off. “Fuck you, shit dick.”

 

Keith barked out a laugh. He nodded a thanks to Shiro, who slid over some fruity concoction he had made. He took a sip. _Nice_. “C’mon, Lance.” He grinned. “You have to admit; you don’t hate me. I think, through these past weeks of getting to know each other, you’ve come to enjoy my company.” He poked Lance’s cheek. “I think you _like_ me, Lance.”

 

Lance grumbled and looked to the side, raking his hand through his hair. He used his free had to bring the glass full of beer to his lips. “You’re not _that_ bad, I guess,” he muttered. “You’re…” he glanced over at Keith. “You’re okay.”

 

Keith smiled. “You’re okay, too, Lance.”

 

Lance groaned. “Okay, enough with the sappy friend confessions. Let’s get drunk.”

 

\--

 

There was a day, the Fourth of July, where the beach closed early and was available for use for the workers there. Pidge had declared this day the ‘Ye Old Day of Getting Drunk and Eating Burgers’.

 

“It’s a thing that happens every summer,” Pidge said, leaning against the counter. They were fanning themselves with a resort pamphlet. “Every Fourth of July, we close up shop early. Coran rents one of the bungalows so we can use the hot tub, Hunk cooks burgers, and we all get drunk.” They grin. “Oh, and there’s a bonfire and fireworks.”

 

Keith raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “What’s the catch?”

 

Pidge shrugged. “We have to make sure it’s cleaned up by the next day. It’s not that bad, for what we get, really.”

 

“And why would anyone want to use a hot tub in this heat?” Keith wondered.

 

“You underestimate how cold it can get near the ocean. Trust me, you’re gonna want to use it. There’s usually a fight for who gets in it first. Most of the time, Lance and Coran get first dibs. The hot tub only fits two people.” They held up a peace sign.

 

“Huh…” Keith muttered.

 

“So, are you coming? Or are you going to go home and sleep at a reasonable time like a normal person?” Pidge smirked.

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m staying for the party. What kind of idiot would turn down free food and alcohol?”

 

Pidge nodded. “You’re learning how to socialize. Good. Very good, my young padawan.”

 

“What the fuck is a padawan?”

 

\--

 

“ _Seriously, dude!?_ ” Lance shrieked, flailing his arms around and nearly spilling his beer. “You’ve _never_ seen _Star Wars_?!”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow. Currently, it was just him and Lance situated in the hot tub—Pidge was right, of course. It was pretty chilly near the ocean, even though it was summer. Hunk was further down the beach, grilling the burgers. Pidge and Allura were situated at the bar with Shiro, and Coran was setting up the bonfire. “No, I’ve never seen them. Is that bad?”

 

“Of _course_ it’s bad! _Mierda para los cerebros_!” He flung his hands in the air again. “All this time! I thought you were okay! But now! _Now_! I can’t even be seen in the same _hot tub_ as you!” He made a pinched up face. “Disgusting.”

 

“What’s so great about _Star Wars_ anyway?” Keith muttered, rolling his eyes.

 

Lance’s mouth dropped open. “What are you even—?! _Everything!_ Everything about _Star Wars_ is amazing! What the fuck dude! What the—okay, okay I admit the prequels weren’t the _best_ things Lucasfilms had to offer… but they had their own special charm to them! I mean! Did you _see_ Padmé’s outfits?! That girl knew how to work it…” Lance continued babbling on about _Star Wars_ , his face getting more excited as he continued talking.

 

Keith smiled, his face warming up. Lance really was… pretty cute. Although it was dark out and the only light source available was the bungalow’s porch light, he could see the way Lance’s eyes lit up when he was talking. His cheeks were flushed a deep carmine, and the way he smiled made his dimple show just a bit. His eyes were crinkled and he seemed to smile like he was happiest being there, talking about _Star Wars_ to Keith, in a lukewarm hot tub.

 

“… And it was _so_ obvious that Finn and Poe were gay as hell for each other! I mean, come on! Even the straightest man in the world could see it! There was so much sexual tension I almost l _died_! And speaking of death! _Han Solo—”_

 

“You’re… kind of a nerd, aren’t you, Lance?” Keith snorted, interrupting whatever Lance was going to say.

 

Lance frowned. “Hey, what the hell, dude, I am _not_ —”

 

Keith grinned. “You just spent the past twenty minutes talking to me about _Star Wars_. And I don’t know anything about it.”

 

Lance pursed his lips. “Well! Whatever! That doesn’t make me a nerd!”

 

Keith laughed. “I think it kind of does…”

 

“Well, I _kind of_ think you’re a butt muncher!” Lance stuck his tongue out, like a mature adult.

 

“I’m not a butt muncher!” Keith frowned.

 

“Yeah you are!”

 

“Am not!”

 

“Yeah, you are! You just don’t want to admit it!” Lance grinned, his teeth showing fully.

 

“No way!”

 

“Yes!”

 

“No!”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Fuck you, Lance! I do not munch butts!”

 

Someone cleared their throat from beside the hot tub.

 

Keith looked up to see Shiro grinning down at them. “Sorry to interrupt your little lover’s quarrel, but your hot tub time is up. Also, food’s on.” He sent Lance a very _pointed_ look.

 

Keith blushed. “Yeah, uh. Sure. Sorry.” He hastily got out of the tub and scurried away, but not before hearing the beginning of a conversation.

 

(“Don’t say things like that.”

 

“Why not, I think it’s cute."

 

“Don’t go butting into stuff you don’t understand, Shiro. I can handle things myself.”)

 

\--

 

By the time everyone had finished eating, Coran had finished setting up the bonfire and fireworks. They were at the far end of the beach, away from the other buildings (for obvious reasons). The group huddled around the fire, talking and laughing with each other. Keith had originally planned to sit with Lance, but frowned when Lance headed over to sit next to Shiro. So he opted to sit next to Allura.

 

“Oh, I just love this festivity so much,” she sighed, looking into the fire. “It’s so nice to get a break from all the hustle of work and just relax with friends.”

 

Keith nodded, bringing his knees up to his chest. The fire was nice and warm against the chilly weather.

 

Allura smiled up at him. “You know… I’m glad you and Lance are getting along well.”

 

Keith blinked at her in surprise. “Huh?”

 

She gave a soft grin. “I was worried… Lance isn’t really one to hate other people. He may tease others and poke fun, but…” She looked over at Lance who was smiling at something Shiro said. “I don’t think Lance has the ability to truly _hate_ anyone.”

 

Keith thought back. He thought back to him and Lance’s first memorable meeting, the way Lance got upset at Keith not remembering him. Lance had gotten quite angry. He thought back to all the creative names Lance had called him in English and Spanish. He thought back to the faces Lance would make whenever Keith walked by him. He thought back to Lance smiling over at his from his surfboard, telling him to _pick up the slack, Mullet Brain! Those waves aren’t going to be around forever!_ Then he had laughed and padded forward, letting Keith fall behind him.

 

Keith smiled. “Yeah. He doesn’t.”

 

Then, Coran said something about fireworks, and there was a frenzied commotion to head over to wherever they were.

 

“Are you coming, Keith?” Allura smiled down at him, offering a hand.

 

Keith shook his head and smiled. “Nah, I think I’ll just sit here for a bit.”

 

She nodded. “Alright… but if you want to join us, we’ll save you some ammo!” She waved at him as she headed toward where Coran was going over the rules and safety of fireworks.

 

Keith sighed and rested his head against his knees, looking out into the ocean through the fire. He thought about his life in the past few months he had been working at the resort. He had really changed, he thought. In the beginning, he really only took the job for the money. To help pay for college. Now… he actually enjoyed arriving at work each day. It was stressful and sometimes unbearable, yeah, but he enjoyed it. He really did.

 

But what was it, he thought, that made him love the job so much? Was is the scenery—the rolling waves of the ocean and the salt of the sea and air… the soft sand and the lively atmosphere? Was it the job itself? Was it the benefits, like parties and free food? Or was it sometimes else entirely, that made Keith wake up with a smile and look forward to coming to work?

 

Keith had a feeling his motivation came in the form of sun-kissed skin, short brown hair, and hazel eyes.

 

Keith jolted when he felt someone plop themselves right next to him.

 

“Here,” Lance said, holding out a beer.

 

“Ah… thanks,” Keith smiled.

 

Lance leaned back against his elbows, spreading his legs out. “So,” he said. “I had a feeling that you weren’t really going to come to the fireworks.” He grinned up at Keith.

 

Keith frowned. “I—”

 

“Hey, there’s no problem with that,” Lance interrupted. “So I brought the fireworks to you.” He brought out two boxes. “Well, technically they’re sparklers. So they’re kinda dinky, but, whatever.” He grinned. “I snagged them from Coran.”

 

Keith snorted and shook his head. “You’re incredible.”

 

Lance shrugged. “I know.”

 

“That was sarcasm, dickmucher,” Keith grinned.

 

Lance grinned back. “Learn it.”

 

Keith laughed, his head thrown back. “Alright, I’ll bite.” He set his undrunk beer down and took a box. He pulled the sparkler out. “Uh… do you have a lighter?”

 

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Why would I need a lighter when we have a literal fire _right here_?” He took his own sparkler.

 

“Oh… right,” Keith murmured. He blushed and brought his sparkler to the flame, which immediately ignited to sparks. Lance did the same to his.

 

They sat there for a few moments, admiring the sparks before eventually, they went out.

 

“Well,” Lance said, “That was anticlimactic.”

 

Keith huffed out a laugh. “Well, what did you expect?”

 

Lance smiled. “I don’t know, really.” He looked out to the ocean for a few moments before looking over at Keith. “You know…” he looked down at the ground. “You’re alright, Keith.” He looked back up and gave Keith a bright grin. The corners of his eyes crinkled. The peaks of his gums showed. _He’s beautiful._ “I think I actually like you, kind of.” At that moment, a firework was shot into the air, and an explosion of color danced across Lance’s eyes. Red, blue, white, green. It made Keith’s breath short, it made his chest flutter. It made his hands curl where they sat in the sand. It filled him with a warmth that soothed him throughout. He felt his cheeks redden significantly.

 

_Oh._

 

And it was in that moment that Keith felt it; it was like a punch to the gut, so sudden and so rapid that he didn’t even realize it had happened until he was lying in his bed that night, looking up at the ceiling.

 

Who knew that falling in love with Lance could feel so wonderful and so painful at the same time?

 

\--

 

The next day, Keith was out of focus. He continuously messed up people’s orders and he more than once tripped over a stray bucket. It was as if he couldn’t focus; like his thoughts where somewhere else, miles and miles away from where they were supposed to be.

 

(Because they were.)

 

He couldn’t stop thinking about Lance. Lance’s tanned skin that had light freckles dotting along his cheeks and shoulders. Lance’s hazel-brown eyes that shone different colors in different lights. (Warm honey in the sun. Dark brown against the backdrop of the water. Burgundy when the sun sets. Warm, chocolate brown at night, against the stars.) He thought about Lance’s lips, red and full and begging to be kissed (Keith wouldn’t mind running his tongue over them). Lance’s chest. His arms. His abs. His legs— _God, his legs were sinful_. His butt (Keith actively loves Lance’s butt).

 

But he also thought about Lance’s smile, and the dorky way he laughed. It was kind of a snort laugh and was kind of gross but also really fucking adorable. When Lance laughed, he laughed because he meant it. It was breathy and sweet and wonderful and Keith wanted nothing more than to see Lance laughing for the rest of forever.

 

“Hey, Keith.” Pidge snapped their fingers in front of Keith’s face.

 

Keith jolted. “Wh—?”

 

“Take the rest of the day off,” Pidge said, smiling gently.

 

“What! Why?” Keith frowned.

 

“Because you’re completely out of it, today.”

 

“But…”

 

“No buts!” Pidge shooed him away. “It’s not a very busy day! Everyone is probably hungover from last night! So don’t worry about a thing! Just go get some rest. You’ll need it.” They winked and sent Keith off with a grin.

 

Keith sighed and grabbed his bag. “Alright. Yeah. I’ll just… go.”

 

“Bye.”

 

“Bye,” Keith offered weakly.

 

\--

 

Despite being a hopelessly in love fool, Keith managed to make it to Lance’s lesson that next Friday. He decided it would be a stupid idea to try to hide his way around his feelings, since Lance literally works right near him. It would be impossible to try to hide from him. So, he braved up and met Lance at the shack during lunch break.

 

“Hey,” Lance grinned. “Pidge told me you’ve been in a weird funk lately.”

 

 _Every time he smiles, an angel is born_. Keith huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, it’s been kinda rough. I’m working through some stuff.”

 

“You think you’ll be okay, today?”

 

 _Probably not, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t_ not _be in love with you._ “Yeah, of course! Let’s get to it.”

 

Lance smiled. “Alright, if you say so.” He grabbed his board and tilted his head toward the ocean. “Let’s hit it.”

 

During his lesson, Keith only got distracted a handful of times. The first time was when Lance leaned down to pick at his wet suit. Keith was literally right behind him and got a very nice view and had to literally take a few moments and calm down his erratic heart rate and breathing. The second time was when the sun shone behind Lance’s head making him look like a literal angel and Keith had slipped on his board and fell into the ocean, much to Lance’s amusement.

 

“You sure you’re okay, buddy?” Lance snorted from beside him, on his board.

 

Keith sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Yeah, I’m just…” _Really fucking gay for you._ “Tired.”

 

“We can stop early if you want,” Lance offered.

 

Keith nodded. “Yeah. That would be… yeah.”

 

Lance snorted and waved Keith along. “C’mon. Let’s put these back. I’ll treat you to a _non-alcoholic_ drink, too.”

 

Keith smiled. “Yeah, okay.”

 

Once they had put their boards away and were relatively dry, Lance led them to the bar. They sat down in their usual seats. “Two triple decker chocolate fudge milkshakes with extra whipped cream and _three_ cherries. _Three cherries, Shiro._ Not two. _Three_.”

 

Shiro rolled his eyes. “Hello to you too, Lance.”

 

Lance looked over at Keith. “He always forgets the third cherry and I always have to chastise him; that’s why he’s so grumpy.”

 

Keith snorted.

 

By the time their break was almost through, Lance had already finished his milkshake. Keith was about halfway done.

 

“I don’t believe you!” Lance smirked.

 

“No, really!” Keith grinned back. “I can totally do it.”

 

“Alright then. Prove it. Tie a cherry stem with your tongue.” Lance leaned against the bar. “I bet you’re bluffing.”

 

Keith smirked. “I’m not.” He pulled a cherry from his milkshake and bit off the fruit part. Then he used his tongue to maneuver the stem around a bit until…

 

“There!” He took the stem out of his mouth. “A perfect knot.”

 

“Dude, what the hell!” Lance hollered. He leaned in close, inspecting the stem. “You cheated,” he concluded after his inspection.

 

“What? How?!” Keith laughed. He leaned in a bit.

 

“I don’t know how… but somehow… you did.” Lance brought his head up and grinned, his eyes sparkling.

 

It was then that Keith realized how _close_ they had gotten during their exchange. From their distance, Keith could see exactly how many freckles lined Lance’s nose. He could trace them with his own mouth, if he wanted to. He could see the flakes of green and gold illuminated in Lance’s eyes. He could see the way Lance’s eye’s widened, and how his mouth hovered open. Keith’s hand twitched.

 

Lance hovered where he was, his breath mingling with Keith’s. He smelled like chocolate and cherries. Keith swallowed thickly and Lance’s eyes traced the movement and back up until he was looking at Keith’s mouth. Lance licked his lips. Keith’s hand twitched again.

 

Keith imagined it. He imagined inches closer, over that small distance, and kissing Lance. He imagined how soft Lance’s lips would be, how sweet he would taste. He imagined the noise Lance would make when Keith would run his tongue along his bottom lip and bite—

 

“Keith…” Lance murmured.

 

Suddenly, the trance was broken. It was as if a bucket of cold water had been dunked over Keith’s head. “I… I have to. Go.” He sputtered out, nearly falling out of his chair. His eyes were wide. “B-Bye.” He hurried away, his face burning and heart stuttering.

 

_Kill me._

 

(Lance looked at where Keith had just been, his heart racing a million beats per minute. His hands twitched, longing to brush through Keith’s hair and pull him in toward him…

 

He put his head in his hands and leaned against the counter. “Shit…” he muttered. “Shit…”

 

Shiro looked on sadly. “You can’t keep doing this, Lance.”

 

Lance sighed. “I know. But I do it, anyway.”)

 

When Keith reached the shack, he nearly collapsed against the wall. He was shaking.

 

“Keith? Are you alright?” Pidge asked worriedly.

 

Keith looked up at them, his eyes shining with tears. “I don’t… I don’t know?”

 

Pidge frowned. “What is it?”

 

Keith looked down at his shaking hands. “I’m…” He buried his face in his knees. “I’m screwed, Pidge. I’m so screwed.”

 

“Is it Lance?” Pidge asked softly.

 

Keith stuttered a bit, before nodding and wiping at his eyes. “Yeah. It’s Lance. It’s always been him. Whether I knew it or not.”

 

\--

 

They hadn’t spoken in a week.

 

Usually, Lance would visit the shack to harass Keith. He would poke fun at his mullet and call him a choice name. Then Keith would throw back some witty retort, causing Lance to laugh in that way that made Keith’s heart flutter.

 

Or sometimes, Keith would visit Lance, crowding in on his “personal bubble”, irritating Lance to no end.

 

But they haven’t spoken or even _looked_ at each other in a week.

 

Keith had to admit, he was sad.

 

“I fucked up,” Keith sighed. “I fucked up. And now he knows that I’m gay as hell for him. And he hates me and he never wants to see me again and _fuck_ …” He groaned. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

 

Pidge sighed and handed a child a pair of goggles. “I’m sure you’re overreacting, Keith.”

 

Keith whined. “No, I’m sure I’m not.”

 

“Look, Keith.” Pidge gave them a pointed stare. “Lance is not one to hate someone because of the way they feel. Lance _may_ be an asshole at times, but he’s definitely not someone to play with other people’s feelings like that.” They looked away, scratching the back of their head. “Just talk to him. Things will work out. I promise.”

 

Keith huffed and looked toward the ocean, where Lance was teaching a bunch of children how to stay steady on their surfboards. He was smiling and laughing as he helped steady one of the children. He seemed so… happy. So content. Keith sighed.

 

_Well, as long as he’s happy._

\--

 

Keith had walked by Lance and Shiro having a hushed conversation one day, while on his lunch break.

 

(“This is a bad way of dealing with your feelings, Lance.”

 

“But it’s the safest way.”

 

“But is safe the way you want to go?”

 

“I don’t know.”)

 

Keith had only walked faster when he caught Shiro’s pitying gaze.

 

\--

 

Keith didn’t know whether or not he was supposed to be going to his next lesson with Lance. He had brought his swimming trunks with him, just in case. Just in case Lance wanted to actually see him. He had a slimmer of hope in his mind, that maybe, just maybe, Lance would actually want to see him. Maybe he didn’t fuck up. Maybe Lance would forgive him.

 

Forgive him for what, Keith wasn’t sure.

 

(For teasing his painted fingernails and toenails?)

 

(For getting in his personal space?)

 

(For almost kissing him?)

 

(For falling hopelessly in love with him?)

 

Keith decided to believe in his hope and stood by the shack ten minutes before his lunch break. He waited. Five minutes, and there was no Lance.

 

Ten. He wasn’t there.

 

Fifteen. Thirty. Fourty-five. Fifty.

 

One hour.

 

Lance never showed up.

 

\--

 

It was a cloudy day. Keith liked to think it was a mirror of how he felt, inside. It was a relatively pleasant day, temperature wise. The sun was nowhere to be found behind the thick clouds, and it was easy to see that a rainstorm was approaching the area. Many people had already booked it by the time the beach closed. By then, there were dark gray clouds floating above the sky and a distant rumble could be heard.

 

“I’m just going to go check in with Coran about the extra floaties request,” Pidge said, tugging on a raincoat. “Do you think you can lock up for me?”

 

Keith waved them off. “Yeah, go on,” he mumbled. He sighed once they left and continued counting the number of each items they had.

 

_Fifteen. Thirty-five. Twenty-seven. Seventeen._

By the time he was done, he could already tell it was pouring heavily outside.

 

“Great,” Keith muttered. “The day I didn’t bring a raincoat…” He pulled down the shutter to the shack and grabbed his bag. He frowned. _I hope there’s nothing important that can’t get wet in here._ He sighed and shrugged. _Whatever._ Then he pushed open the door and shut it quickly, locking it closed. He was immediately pelted with water and quickly put the keys to the shack in his bag.

 

By the time he made it to the middle of the beach, he was soaking wet, all over. It was thundering pretty heavily, and lightning could be seen in the distance. The ocean was going wild, waves crashing farther up on the shore than Keith was comfortable with.

 

He trudged through the wet sand, desperate to get off the beach and onto some solid ground. The quicker he was on solid ground, the quicker he would be able to get home. But then, he saw him.

 

Lance was standing near the shore of the beach, looking out at the water. He looked calm. Peaceful, even. He was wearing nothing but a pair of cargo shorts and a baseball tee.

 

He looked absolutely stunning, and it pissed Keith off to no end.

 

Keith trudged toward Lance, determined to set things straight between them. _Enough is enough._

 

“Lance!” He yelled through the storm.

 

Lance looked over at Keith, and his eyes widened. For a split second, a flash of panic ran through Lance’s eyes. He looked around, as if contemplating whether or not to run—or swim—away. But before he could do anything, Keith yelled, “Nope!” and promptly crashed into him, making them both fall onto the sand.

 

“What the fuck!” Lance yelled. “What the fuck is your problem?!” He glared up at Keith, who was sitting on his legs.

 

“You!” Keith yelled angrily. “You are my problem!”

 

“What are you going _on_ about!?” Lance snarled.

 

“You _asshole!_ ” Keith shouted.

 

Lance tried to shove Keith off, but Keith remained. “Keith, what the hell! This is not the time or place to be doing weird shit!”

 

“Shut up! Just! Just shut up!” Keith glared at him angrily. “You ignored me! For a whole week! You left me waiting for you last Friday! I _waited_ for you, Lance! I… I waited…” His voice cracked. “I waited so much…”

 

Lance pursed his lips and sighed, resting his head on the sand. “I’m sorry. But, seriously can’t we—”

 

“No! You don’t…” Keith gripped onto Lance’s shirt. “You _don’t_ understand! You never have! I _hate_ you! I hate you so much!” Lance’s eyes widened. “I hate how I just can’t stay away. How you _make_ me want to not stay away! I can’t…” Keith felt himself choke up. “I hate you so much. I hate you so much that I just can’t help but love you, too.” A sob erupted from his mouth. “You… You _asshole_! How _dare_ you be so funny and smart and charming and kind and beautiful and just…” He lightly punched Lance on the shoulder. “Fuck you,” he whimpered. “Fuck you, Lance. I hate you. I hate you so much.”

 

“Keith…” Lance breathed.

 

Keith looked away.

 

“Keith, please.”

 

Keith shook his head.

 

“Keith if you don’t get down here and kiss me in the next few seconds, I’m going to drag you down into the sand with me.”

 

Keith blinked. “Huh?” he mumbled pathetically.

 

Lance groaned and wrapped his arms around Keith’s neck and pulled him close, crushing their mouths together.

 

It was… honestly the worst kiss Keith had ever had. It was sloppy and wet and there was sand involved and they were being pelted by rain everywhere. But at that moment, he didn’t care. Because it wasn’t just anyone kissing him in the sand. It was Lance. _Lance._

 

Lance. Lance. Lance.

 

Lance.

 

“Lance,” Keith sobbed into his mouth.

 

“You absolute idiot,” Lance murmured, kissing Keith’s lips, his nose, his forehead, his cheeks. “I love you too. _Of course_ I love you too.” He reclaimed Keith’s lips, shushing the sobs erupting from Keith’s body.

 

“I hate you! I hate you,” Keith sobbed, clutching onto Lance’s cheeks. “You’re the worst and I love you so much.”

 

Lance shuddered, his hair plastered to his face. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Keith sobbed again, this time smiling, as he brought Lance’s lips to his again.

 

\--

 

“So… you’re telling me that Keith tackled you to the ground in the middle of a thunderstorm and confessed?” Hunk grinned. “Then you guys started making out on the beach _in the middle of a thunderstorm_? Classy, dude. Real classy.”

 

Lance grinned, while Keith merely shook his head and hid his face in his hands. “It sounds so much worse when you say it out loud,” he groaned.

 

“Awww, I think it’s cute, Keith!” Allura cooed. “I mean, the setting could have been a bit better, but overall it’s a nice story!” She gave a cheeky grin. “Just so you know, I was rooting for you both from the start!”

 

“Jee, thanks,” Keith grumbled.

 

“Please tell me you did not do anything nasty on the beach,” Pidge deadpanned from their place on the barstool.

 

Lance grinned and said, “Depends. What do you define as nasty—OUCH. Dude!” He glared at Keith, who had smacked his arm. “Not cool. We are _boyfriends_ now. We can’t be hurting each other.”

 

“With how much you put Keith through, I think you deserve it,” Shiro grinned.

 

Pidge nodded. “Yep. You should have seen him, Lance. He was like a sad little puppy. I almost wanted to take him home and adopt him.”

 

“Aww,” Allura chimed. “Keith, you’d be a cute puppy.”

 

“What the fuck,” Keith muttered.

 

Shiro nodded. “Yeah, I can see it. I’d adopt you.”

 

“What the _fuck_.”

 

Lance grinned from beside him. “I’d adopt you too, babe.”

 

Keith glared at him. “We’re breaking up.” Then he swiftly turned around and made his way to the shack.

 

“What! Wait! Babe! Keith! Honey! Darling! Sugar Plum! Pumpkin! Sweetheart— _Wait for me!_ ” Lance scrambled off the barstool and ran after Keith, who only ran away faster at the sounds of his oncoming boyfriend.

 

Allura grinned, leaning against the counter. “They’re so cute.”

 

Pidge snorted. “Yeah, they are. But you gotta admit, those two are gonna be a pain in the ass together.”

 

“Oh yeah.”

 

“Definitely.”

 

“No doubt about it.”

 

(From the other side of the beach, Lance caught up with Keith and pulled him into a sweet kiss. His mouth slotted against Keith’s perfectly, much better than it had the other night. Lance tasted like the sea. Which was kind of gross but Keith couldn’t complain, really.

 

Lance pulled back with a _pop_. “So, will I be seeing you later?” he grinned suavely.

 

Keith rolled his eyes and grinned. “Do you even have to ask?”

 

“Just making sure.” Lance smirked and leaned in.

 

Keith met him halfway.)

**Author's Note:**

> some notes:  
> -i have never surfed in my entire life  
> -i based this place to be somewhere in florida!!! idk where, just. florida  
> -the term 'dicksquatch' came from when i was driving and this guy cut me off and i yelled and called him a 'dicksquatch' it was a very beautiful moment  
> -the star wars prequels are not that bad and i will stand by that until the end of time
> 
> tumblr is amedala!


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